


Moments

by iheartkarmy



Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, based on Season Three Trailer, literally just moments, non Canon, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iheartkarmy/pseuds/iheartkarmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Possibly series of oneshots based on moments from the Season 3 Trailer.  Starts off with Amy kissing Catwoman at the Halloween party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Last Girl?

**A while back Secretmonkey had a series called Scenes that was all moments from the 2B trailer. I loved the idea so much that I'm totally stealing it. This is based on a scene from the trailer, the one of Amy kissing the girl at the Halloween party.**

It's Halloween (or technically two nights before) and you're kissing Catwoman.

Her _name_ is Harper and she's not the _first_ girl you've kissed since Reagan (that would, _technically_ , be Karma, but since _she_ kissed _you_ and then didn't - _couldn't_ \- tell you it meant anything, you're _so_ not counting that) and there have been others since then, but unlike _those_ kisses (Portland and Becky and Suzanne and that girl in the club in Tulsa whose name you can't remember but whose lips you'll _never_ forget) you're managing, fairly easily, to _not_ wonder if Harper will be the _last_ girl you kiss.

You always thought Karma was the hopeless romantic (and if she ever finds out you've been thinking _this_ way about every kiss, she's never going to let you live it down) (of course, she'd have to be _speaking_ to you for that to happen) but it's taken you a lot longer that you would have thought to adjust to the idea that every kiss doesn't have to be _the_ kiss and every girl doesn't have to be _the_ girl and every guy…

Well…

You tried _that. Once_. In Lubbock, in a bar with bad lighting and worse beer and the girls in the band side eyeing you from the stage as you danced a _little_ too close with him (and by a little, you mean a lot, and by a lot you mean there was some… _serious_ … grinding and by serious you mean you could totally feel… _him_ … through the denim of his jeans.) You did your best to pretend that you didn't notice his… enjoyment… and tried so very hard (for reasons even _you_ don't really understand) to find him even half as attractive as the girl he'd come there with.

You tried. But then _he_ tried to pin you against a wall outside the restroom and _she_ gave him a swift kick and went back to the motel with you and _he_ went home alone (and nursing a very… bruised… _enjoyment_ ) and… let's just say you didn't have to pretend very much the rest of _that_ night.

But back to Harper, who _still_ isn't the first girl and _probably_ isn't the last (and you're not too disappointed about that cause, really, the Catwoman costume _is_ hot, but it's hot _and_ cliche and you like to think your standards a _bit_ higher, at least when it comes to something more than kissing.)

(Though... it _is_ hot and the kisses _are_ good so maybe just a little _more_ isn't totally out of the question especially since it is _your_ house and your room is _right_ upstairs...)

It's still sorta weird for you, to find yourself even considering _that._ You'd never thought of yourself as a hook-up kinda girl and you still think Shane's 'get over by getting under' is about the worst advice in the history of advice. It is, you think, a sure fire way to a broken heart, to a messy morning after, to night after night filled with orgasms laced with self hatred and denial.

But…

They're still _orgasms_.

And, bad advice or not, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't tried it out maybe just a little and you'd be lying even more if said it didn't… help… a bit. A tiny bit. A teeny tiny, itsy bitsy, barely even noticeable…

Oh, who _the fuck_ are you kidding? The _only_ time you _didn't_ think about Karma for the first month you were gone was when there were new lips on yours (and even then…) or new hands running along your body (and still then…) or a new head between your thighs (and...well… OK… not _then_.)

Getting laid didn't get you over Karma but it did get you (and _her_ ) out of your head and that, you know, had to help.

And the orgasms certainly didn't suck and once you got through that first month, once you got used to the road and the bus and the girls in the band (and no, you didn't do any of _that_ with any of _them_ because you still remembered Shane's _other_ advice about not shitting where you eat even if you think he could have come up with a much less _ewww_ way to put it) and, mostly, got used to not having Karma there, _right there_ , all the time, it got easier and you didn't find yourself craving a kiss or a touch or a something… _more_ … quite so often.

That doesn't mean you didn't indulge, but you like to think you were a little more… discerning… those last two months. Which, obviously, brings you back to Harper because while she may not be the _last_ girl (and, truthfully, you don't even know if she has last girl _potential_ cause most of the hour and half you've known her, her lips have been too…. _busy_ … to talk) she _is_ the first girl since you've been back (and no, you're not counting the good-bye kiss Jessa gave you at the bus stop) and you know that you really should talk to her a little. Chat her up. Find out if she's even your type.

Like you know what _that_ is.

Reagan was your type (but then, Reagan was _everyone's_ type). Portland and Becky and Suzanne and Tulsa and Lubbock (her, _not_ him) were all your type, at least for an hour or a night or something in between and they had little or nothing in common. They were short (Becky) and tall (Portland) (Seriously) (fucking _Amazon_ ). They were brunette (Tulsa) and blonde (Suzanne) and some green-slash-blue-slash-gray color not found in nature (Lubbock).

They _weren't_ red. Not a fucking one.

They were into music (Jessa and yes, for this you'll count that kiss) and books (Portland) ( _Gulliver's Travels_ was a fave) and movies (oh… that was _you_ ). Some of them you wanted to talk to for hours and some only lasted five minutes before you helped them find much better uses for their mouths.

You're not sure about Harper yet (again, mouth sorta busy) and you know you should take a break, disengage, see if she even recognizes your costume (Amelia Earhart and not, as Shane thought, the dead wife from the beginning of _Up_ ), see if she's got the brains to keep up with the lips, if she's got enough going on _above_ the waist to not _make_ her a waste.

You should. You really should.

But she's pressing you back, up against the wall and while doing _this_ in front of this _many_ people (like a fucking _one_ of them is looking at you two right now) isn't normally your thing, it's been almost two months and Karma's still not speaking to you and you're spending most of your time with Lauren (which isn't as bad as you once thought, but it's still _Lauren_ ) and Karma's still not speaking to you and you had to find out she was still homeless from _Shane_ and did you mention Karma's still not speaking to you and you think that maybe (so _not_ maybe) you're self imposed dry spell, the one you started so as to not appear to have _moved on_ completely might be just about at end.

And then you (for no good reason) (except you _feel_ it before you see it) (which is still not a _good_ reason) pop one eye open as both Harper's hands settle into back pockets of your _very_ tight Amelia Earhart flight pants and you discover you were wrong.

One of them _is_ looking at you two.

And you get the feeling this isn't going to get her to speak to you any time soon which might explain (not _might_ ) why five minutes later Harper's hands aren't in your pockets anymore cause your pockets are on your _pants_ and _those_ are on the floor next to your bed and this is, you're quite _sure,_ nothing but one more step toward another broken heart, a messy morning after, and an ever widening divide between you and the only person you really wish was in your bed right now.

So, yeah, Harper's definitely _not_ the _last_ girl. But the last girl… well… she's not even the speaking to you girl right now. And maybe you don't have to try as hard as you did that first month and maybe this isn't the bus and this isn't the road and _nothing_ you do is going to keep Karma out of your head.

But it can't hurt to let Harper try.

It's still an orgasm after all. And that's never bad, right?

_Right?_


	2. Stupid Pain

**Based on the shot of Karma getting a tattoo and requested by a special friend.  I'm taking requests if anyone has a moment they'd like to see...**

 

It hurts.

Not the needle, though it does scratch across her skin and Karma grits her teeth against the pain, though it's more discomfort so far. But it hurts more than she expected (and yes, she knows that's sorta silly cause _tattoo_ ) and Shane stands there, off in the distance, just barely in her line of sight, with that 'I told you so' fucking smirk and she knows it's not _just_ about the needle or _just_ about the ink or _just_ about anything from the last ten minutes or the last hour or the last three months and as close as they've become?

She still _hates_ that fucking smirk.

The needle digs a bit and Karma holds still, barely, and yes, it hurts more than she'd planned (which is so not unlike the rest of… well… _everything_ ) but it's not _real_ pain so she's not gonna cry out (especially not in front of Shane) and she's not gonna have tears running down her cheeks (though pooling in her eyes is just fucking _fine_ ) and she's not gonna do much more than grit those teeth and white knuckle the chair.

Yeah. It hurts.

But she's had worse.

_I'm totally over you_.

The needle digs again, hitting a particularly sensitive spot along her neck, one she remembers Mr. I'm Totally Over You was especially fond of kissing and nibbling and she's _so not_ thinking about that so instead she focuses on the needle, on the feel of it, on imagining the mark _it_ will leave behind. So much nicer, so much cooler, so much _better_ than any of the ones _he_ ever left her with.

But probably about as permanent.

She focuses on the needle and staring straight ahead and not letting her eyes wander toward Shane, toward that fucking smirk that no doubt has shifted now, turned from 'I told you so' to that… _other_ … one. The one she saw when she cried, the one she saw when she crashed on his couch or in his bed or he sat outside the Good Karma truck and held her till the middle of the night when they both pretended she wasn't crying over Amy and that even if she was (she _totally_ was) she wasn't crying over Amy cause of… _reasons…_

_You can tell me that kiss meant something_

_I can't_

And they both pretended, all summer long, that 'I can't' was the same as 'it didn't' and Karma was OK with that (though she long suspected Shane _wasn't_ ) but then Amy came back and Karma pretended even more and oversold her friendship with Shane (which was close, but not _that_ close, not like 'Amy'd been replaced' close but she sold the _shit_ out of _that_ idea and didn't feel a moment's guilt for how it might have hurt Amy.)

(not a moment)

(not one)

(nope)

( _fuck_ )

So she doesn't look at Shane cause she doesn't want to see _that_ look cause she doesn't want his fucking pity right now (which is a fucking _lie_ cause she _does_ , she wants it _all the time_ cause sometimes it's the only thing that makes her feel like anyone cares and yeah, she knows how fucking sad _that_ is) but she mostly doesn't want to see the hurt there, the hurt she knows is because of her (cause her hurting someone she cares about is something _new_ and _different_ , right?)

This is a mistake, he said. This isn't you, he said. This is permanent and forever that isn't what you want and it won't get you what you want and it _isn't you_ , he said. And so she asked him, asked him how exactly one summer made him such an expert on _her_ , how three months of friendship gave him such insight into what _she_ wanted.

"I don't need to be an expert in you, to recognize pain," he said. "And, in lots of ways you're not like anyone else I've ever met, but in _this_ one? You're just like _everyone_ else. Pain makes you do stupid things."

_I'm totally over you_

_Why can't we just be us again? I just want things to be the same, the same as they were before all of… everything_

_If you'd wanted things to stay the same, maybe you shouldn't have left_

You're right, she told him. Pain did make her do stupid things. "Stupid things like kissing Amy in a pool or fucking Liam in a thunderbox," she _said_. And she _thought_ ' thinking 'I can't' and 'it didn't' were even fucking _close_ to the same thing' but then _said_ "Like being friends with you."

It hurt. More than the needle hurt her now and maybe (not _maybe_ ) less than watching Amy roll out of town had hurt _then_ but it still fucking hurt and she could see it in his eyes, even after the needled started scratching against her skin and she was gritting her teeth and that 'I told you so' smirk was dancing across his face. It still fucking hurt.

She'd hurt him. Just because he'd tried to help and just because he tried to keep her from wallowing and sinking back into everything she'd clawed her way out of that summer and even though it (the needle) hurts and even though _it_ (hurting him) hurts even more, Karma doesn't tell the guy to stop and she doesn't jump from the chair or run from the room or even start mentally calculating the cost of laser surgery to remove the half a… whatever the hell that symbol was she'd picked in her fit of 'fuck you, I won't do what you tell me'.

She doesn't apologize.

And she _won't_. Cause maybe _this_ (getting some random fucking mark picked out of a book that will, in the ultimate irony, turn out to be the Buddhist symbol for… wait for it… _karma_ ) inked on her neck is just another cry for help, another plea for attention, another 'I have to do _something_ cause _everything_ else is out of _my_ control' titling at a fucking windmill and not one of her proudest moments, but she hasn't had a lot of _those_ lately (and by lately, she totally means like a fucking _year_ ) but she can just add it to the list.

Another moment of immaturity. Another moment of insecurity. Another moment of overreaction and making things so much bigger than they really are and not dealing with the actual fucking problem

_(I can't)_

(not 'it didn't')

and just one more reason for the sad shakes of all their heads and those sorrowful and pitying looks in their eyes and one more reason for the haters to hate, hate, hate.

Hashtag PoorKarma indeed.

And yeah, maybe, in the back of her mind she knows that isn't _exactly_ fair and she knows that maybe they've _all_ had it rough. Liam lost his family (though the Bookers are a family of epic douchiness, so how much of a loss that is seems sorta debatable) and Lauren's father divorced Farrah and left her here in Austin _and_ her secret came out (though that did make her _more_ popular _and_ class president _and_ not, you know, not shunned to the bottom of the social ladder _again_ ) and Shane lost Duke (but he also outed Duke and so maybe it was just about time that karma - the _force,_ not _her_ \- bit that boy in the ass) and Amy…

Amy left.

But first, Amy got a super hot girlfriend who would've done almost anything for her (and yes, Karma gets that the 'almost' is kinda the point) and then she got the sweetest guy ever to fall for her (and yes, Karma gets that ' _guy'_ is kinda the point there too) and then Karma made one mistake (and _yes,_ she knows it wasn't just _one_ , but _that_ is so _not_ the fucking point) and then Amy…

Left.

And that _is_ the point.

The needle digs once more and Karma grips the chair and the tears pool in her eyes (and that's _all_ cause of the needle and so _not_ cause of anything else, like anything anyone might have _said_ about leaving.)

_It worked, though. Me leaving. It worked. It sucked being apart and it was hard and horrible and I never want to do it again. But it_ worked _, Karma._

_I got over you._

And then Shane's there and his hand is covering hers and squeezing gently and Karma flips her hand over and laces their fingers together and she still refuses to let the tears fall but they're there, blurring her eyes and it's like she's back in the pool with him, sinking under the water where all the other shit can't find them and she knows he was right. This isn't her.

But pain makes people do stupid things.

Karma knows that better than most.


End file.
